


A collection of 100 word stories

by Attemptedwords



Category: Attack on Titan, Sherlock - Fandom
Genre: aot - Freeform, snk
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-15
Updated: 2014-08-21
Packaged: 2018-02-13 07:32:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 1,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2142480
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Attemptedwords/pseuds/Attemptedwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here I am attempting to get back into writing again by placing roughly 100 words in a literate manor with the prompt of a single word. Good luck reading it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Faded

A young soldier steps into the room at a brisk speed, and barely wastes a breath before launching into the announcement he’s been assigned to tell me. His eyes are green, as is he. They sparkle with the excitement of someone who hasn’t been out there yet, who is waiting as patiently as he can, trying not to get overly excited about something that everybody else claims to be a nightmare. His voice is quiet for a newbie, “Sir, the expedition is leaving soon. General Harrison is awaiting you at the gate.” I nod. He turns on the heel of his second hand boots – likely to have only just had the blood of their last owner blood scrubbed from their now gleaming surface, in a hurried day’s turnaround of equipment – they are surprisingly bright. Everything about the young soldier was bright; we were ever like that? When did we become so very faded?


	2. Gush

“I wish I could be sorry.”  Jean whispered smugly into his lover soft blonde hair, his fingers caressing Armin’s collar bone that was ever so slightly sharpened by the shadows lingering from the last of the candle burning to the very end of its wick. The body jean was holding seemed to shudder for a number of seconds, as he removed the sleek knife from its pale neck. Blood gushed out from the ugly wound, spilling down Armin’s chest like a dark rouge waterfall. His hands clawed for something to cling to, but there was nothing other than the slender body of one he thought he could trust. Jean tried as best he could to ignore the pathetic look in Armin’s fading blue eyes; a look of utter betrayal, confusion and desperation, but it did nothing to pierce Jean’s heart, he simply watched the life leave Armin’s now crumpled body as it dropped onto the bed, paler than ever against the backdrop of his own blood, pooled around his head and soaking through the sheets.


	3. Glamorous

Tight black leather shorts revealing thin white thighs, knee-length high-heeled black boots clad over elegant legs; above the waist, even less is left to the imagination. One hand on a sharp left hip while the other on the pole as they circle the metal bar that leads from ceiling to floor in the centre of the dimly lit room. It’s a stage. A stage for viewing such a sleek masterpi-

The door opens and light spills upon the scene inside the dark room. Within the door frame stands a less glamorously dressed Armin with mug of tea in one hand and a book in the other,

“Wha…” His eyes widen even further, “Levi…where did you…er…where did get that pole from?”


	4. Evidence

Eric smirked, “So you’re telling me that you think this so called ‘evidence’, an old dog bone and a dry muddy foot print, is going to save your skin?” He sighed and placed his glasses down upon the plain, steel desk. “I’m disappointed, Grange, I really am.” He did his best to back up the ‘disappointed’ state that he claimed to be experiencing by rubbing his temple with one hand and tapping the desk with another.  
He glanced towards my handcuffs, trying his best not to look again towards the viewing room on the other side of the one way glass.


	5. Hidden

“Erwin, where is the brat?” Levi demanded in a cold, uncaring tone, as he stared through dead eyes at the commander.   
Erwin grinned, “That look isn’t going to work on me,” he mused as his stirred his strong black tea, “I haven’t got him.” Levi huffed and paced towards the door – the so called ‘Brat’ wasn’t going to make it out of this one lightly; Levi had been storming around the castle all morning demanding for various, oblivious members of the corps to hand the ‘Brat’ over.  
Erwin began sipping his tea, smirking at his own genius. Levi would never check  his own room.


	6. Funeral

Gusty winds throw a freezing cold breeze at the minute graveside gathering of so called ‘friends and family’; the group could hardly be called a crowd, with only six people, that including the large, monotone Vicar and the bored, smoking hearse driver. The ‘friends and family’ consisting of two acclaimed ‘old friends’ and the deceased’s sister. The sixth member of the group stands a little away from the others, watching over the scene with intelligent eyes; his dark coat and deep purple scarf reflect the mood of the occasion – dismal. _John,_ he considers, _I can only apologise.  
_


	7. Gloves

“You’ll need them.” Mello decreed; he didn’t even bother lifting his seemingly bored eyes from the screen of the laptop.

This is exactly what Matt had predicted would happen – another pointless dispute. “I won’t!”

“You will.” Why was Mello so damn stubborn?

“I really won’t…look I-“ Before Matt could finish his excuse, the pair of black ‘robber’ gloves had been thrown directly at his face; you could at least say that the genius sat behind him in the car had incredibly good aim.

“Mello, they make us look like robbers from crappy old films!”

“They wouldn’t if you wore better clothes.”

“Says the one wearing all leather!”

“Shut up.” Ah, that predictable first warning.

“Look, these gloves…they make my hands sweaty…and I don’t see why we need them, they know it’s us whether or not they find our prints on the scene!”

“Matt, shut up.” The second…

“I-“

The laptop mouse came hurtling towards Matt and landed on the passenger seat.

“No need to be violent!” Matt replied in the most ‘sing-song’ voice he could muster.

“Just shut the hell up.” Mello’s reply came in the form of a growl.


	8. Whiteboard

“How to teach a lesson…teenagers in a school… _think! Y_ ou went to school once…oh for gods sake…school. It’s been deleted.” Sherlock grimaced, then opened his eyes and lowered his hands from his temple. “John I can’t do it.” John grinned, then raised an eyebrow and made his way around the desks towards the classroom door. “It was your idea Sherlock,” he mused, “it was your idea.” “How was I meant to know it would end up like this? We were supposed to be able to stand as cover teachers…what are cover teachers even for anyway?” He replied exasperatedly, then threw the whiteboard marker at the wall before slumping down into the teacher’s chair. “They’re for teaching, as you’re about to find out,” John checked his watch, “round about…” the school bell rang, “now.”


	9. Blood

There was a lot of blood. In enough, in fact, to cover half of the city – smeared on walls and doused over the pavements. It had flowed through the streets like the remaining rain from a spring shower, for days on end until it had set onto the ground like spilt copper coloured paints. The rain had washed a little away, yet the scent remained, so suffocatingly dense with its lingering metallic stench; this, along with the thousands of dead – their bodies left to rot in the streets as the survivors tried their hardest to bury them, all left over from the titans’ most recent attack upon the city.


	10. More Blood

It started, just like last time, with a bolt of lightning just outside the city gates. Closely followed by the destruction of yet another set of gates and battlements by the colossal one. Without a moment’s intermission, an influx of titans entered the city, along with a number of unusual cases; this time around there had not only been the armoured and the colossal, but the one they called the ‘Jumping titan’ and the ‘Four-legged titan’. Chaos had broken out, the city destroyed, lives lost, all this taking place while the powers in charge did what little they could to save the civilians, to stop them dying like flies.


End file.
